(no subject)
Jan. 30th, 2008 07:04 pmMy one-eyed kitty is adorable. She’s loving and warm and playful and is all about snuggle time. When she’s curious, she tips her head to one side, whiskers curved forward winsomely. She gets on rather well with the older girls (who mostly ignore her, which is better than the outright hostility that poor Zinda dealt with for months) as well as the still-sorta-kitteny-cat (Esme and Zee have epic chases; they are awesome to behold). For the most part, kitteh has lovely manners. The pill in this jam? Esme goes after people food.
Don and I are working to break her of this habit. “Look at your sisters!” we say. “Note how they are most decidedly not trying to crawl over under our elbows that they might stick their faces in our plates!”
“First of all,” Esme replies, “I’m adopted. Secondly, foodfoodfoodfoodfoodfoodfoodfood! *snarfle*”
It’s an ongoing struggle. ( Some days, ‘struggle’ becomes ‘battle.’ )
Don and I are working to break her of this habit. “Look at your sisters!” we say. “Note how they are most decidedly not trying to crawl over under our elbows that they might stick their faces in our plates!”
“First of all,” Esme replies, “I’m adopted. Secondly, foodfoodfoodfoodfoodfoodfoodfood! *snarfle*”
It’s an ongoing struggle. ( Some days, ‘struggle’ becomes ‘battle.’ )